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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30145344">Eight Hundred and Eleven</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/xotsukki/pseuds/marsille'>marsille (xotsukki)</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/xotsukki/pseuds/xotsukki'>xotsukki</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sally Face (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Band AU but not really, Child Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Everyone Is Gay, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Substance Abuse, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, kenneth phelps is evil whats new, sal is a sweetheart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:28:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,082</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30145344</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/xotsukki/pseuds/marsille, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xotsukki/pseuds/xotsukki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Overthinking, enduring what nobody should go through and many gay thoughts. Typical 90s teenager things, eh?</p><p>Is Sal counting the days since he moved to Nockfell? Maybe. Are these the best days of his life? Highly probable.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sal Fisher/Travis Phelps</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. blue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His entire body's aching yet again. This time it's mostly his head, he got away easy.</p><p>Travis Phelps has a habit of waking up during the night. It wasn't something that used to bother him much, but lately, as he's been trying to sleep through incoming waves of more and more pain, it has become yet another thing he despises about himself. That he can't sleep properly. On top of all the other waeknesess.</p><p>Father says he's weak, so it must be true. Right?</p><p>It's around three, maybe four in the morining. He can't be bother to glance at the alarm clock on his bedside table.</p><p>He's tired, really tired, but he's not making any effort to go to sleep. He's not getting up either. The night is one of the few moments he has for himself, just to think.</p><p>His eyes are fixed on the ceiling, which is the exact same color as the walls. The walls are empty, other than his schedule above the desk and a family picture above the bed. His sheets are a pleasant shade of vream, floor's pristine. Travis' room is pure, unlike him.</p><p>Pure. Innocent. Smooth. Holy.</p><p>He wished the walls could be blue. Blue might be his favourite colour.</p><p>Whatever goes through his head is sinful. Any thought that isn't God honoring shouldn't be a thought at all.</p><p>But he still thinking about him. The glitering blue eye that glances at him in the hallways sometimes. The hair, which he can only assume is the exact same shade of blue. He can't help but to think how would it feel to bury his hands in his hair.</p><p>He can't help to think about how it would be touch and be touched. To have the pale, soft skin right by him. He can't help to think how it'd feel to kiss him, even through that blank mask.</p><p>He can't help it, he can't stop thinking.</p><p>Father is right. He's sick afterall. And maybe he diserves the bruises.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this one was meant to be messy and short, hope i didn't overdo that.</p><p>Decicated 2 my lovely friend that unfortunatelly has no ao3 account</p><p>update probably tmrw &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. bathroom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>forgot to mention in chapter one, but english isn't my first language<br/>pls lmk of grammar issues if theres any &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He's sitting on the ground of the bathroom stall. His tear-clouded eyes glancing at the lock time and time again, making sure he's safe.</p><p>His mind have been racing horrible since that morning. Night? Keeping track of time has gotten more difficult lately.</p><p>Adding onto that, he'd seen Sal this morning. Of course he has, they're in math together. He showed up in a black hoodie and red ripped jeans, so painfully average. Yet Travis' mind was still laced with sin the minute he saw him, pathetic.</p><p>He caught another glance from those blue eyes before math, in the hallway. Blue pigtails bouncing when he turned his head, blue eye glittering when talking the girl, Ashley, was it? Sal has no right to be this beautiful, and Travis has no right to think like that.</p><p>So he punched him. In the face. He fucking punched him in the face. Called him a fag, called that girl a bitch. And just left.</p><p>At least if he was going to fight he should fight like a man, like father taught him. Go for the crotch, then stomach and ribs. Break a nose.</p><p>It was probably better that he left. He didn't want to hurt him, truly, he didn't want Sal to be hurt ever, yet he punched. Why? He didn't even hit back. It would be blasphemy to compare a person like Sal to Jesus, but that's what came into Travis' mind. There's a place just for him in hell. He felt like a pit in his gut opened.</p><p>His day wasn't going the best to begin with, everybody's been staring at his black eye, yesterday's "battle scars". The other students probably think he just got his ass kicked by someone he picked on. Good. Travis wouldn't be the one to break it to them, ever.</p><p>Father wants the best for him.</p><p>He's squeezing a piece of horribly crumpled paper in his left, a pen in his right.</p><p>He sighes, shutting his eyes. It feels so wrong yet so right at the same time. He breathes in shakily and hoovers the tip of the pen above the first line.</p><p>The blonde sighs again as he begins to write. He just needs the thoughts out of his head. As long as nobody reads it, it's fine, right?</p><p>'I know we don't really know eachother and you have your opinions of me.</p><p>Opinions. As if Sal didn't hold severe hatred for him. At least he assumes, but why wouldn't he?</p><p>'I though maybe if i told you how I feel, things could be different.'</p><p>His breathing picks up and he feels like throwing up. He'll throw the letter anyway. It's alright, nobody will know.</p><p>'The truth is, I can't stop thinking about you. I'm crazy about you. I think you're amazing!</p><p>That is true, he is crazy, surely. The handwriting worsened on this line shakey and messy, but who cares.</p><p>'But I know these feeling are wrong. It's not the way a boy should feel. Shame swallows me whole.</p><p>Travis tries to choke back tears on this one. He can't.</p><p>'My father would kill me but I can't live in his shadow forever, i just</p><p>He would be sobbing is he could. His hand froze. This wasn't working, at all. The thoughts aren't gonna go away. He just needs to suck it up.</p><p>A wave of warmth trickles down his face as he furiously scribbles out the rest of the sentance. All this did was give the blonde false hope that he may deserve to be forgiven, for his actions, for this thoughts. He wasn't even sure whose forgivnes he wanted, Sal's or God's. Either would do.</p><p>But father said false ideas are worse than the Holocaust. A lot of things were worse than that in his eyes. Homosexuality, for example.</p><p>Travis wiped his face with a sleeve before crumpling the paper into a samll ball and hiding it in his palm. Nobody needs to see that.</p><p>He briefly opens the door just to throw his writing across the bathroom, aiming for the trash can. He doesn't look if it went in or not.</p><p>He shuts the door loudly and sits on the toilet seat. The wet lines on his face feel like burns, his head is heavy and filled with dull pain, his breathing can't get faster. He slowly touches the bruise on his face, more tears fall. Thre's no point in trying to calm down anymore, but he rubs circles on his hand anyway. He can' be sobbing in a public bathroom, people coming in left and right-</p><p>Shit. He hasn't thought about that when throwing out that disgrace of a letter. People.</p><p>He's about to stand up and check if he managed to throw it out, but that second the door creaks and somebody steps in. Shit, people. He forgot about people.</p><p>He tires to be as quiet as possible, before noticing that his feet show through the gap anyway. He let's out a pained sigh.</p><p>Travis' muscles stiffen as the footsteps approach his stall.</p><p>"Is anyone in there?" Oh fuck. Of course it had to be him. Of course. Travis' head fills with rage, why on earth did he found that voice soothing?</p><p>"No duh, fuckward! Buzz off!" His voice lets him down in the attempt to sound angry and unbothered. Would Sal even care if he was crying or not? He just needs him to leave. Just fucking leave, Fisher.</p><p>"Travis? Were you just... crying a second ago?" He's too nice for his own good.</p><p>"Sally Face?" he pretendes he didn't know who it was, but yet again, his voice failes him. "I- NO! What the hell? Can't a guy get some privacy?"</p><p>Leave. Just leave.</p><p>"Why do you hate me so much?" Oh. Travis' breath slows down, expression softens. He didn't expect that question, it seems like Sal himself didn't expect to ask that. His brain felt deep fried.</p><p>"Because you and your dumb friends are a bunch of homos!" He swallows. His body is so heavy, he needs to lay down, he needs sleep. "It's sick! It's not right! God will never love you, why should I?!" For fucks sake, Sal, leave.</p><p>"You know we aren't all actually gay, right? I mean, besides Todd, Todd is super gay." Travis finds his hands are sweating more than usual, the pit in his stomach grows to consume him whole. "But that's the part of who he is and i think its wonderful! He's one of the kindest people I know, how could anyone hate Todd?"</p><p>Travis stays quiet. He feels as if he opened his mouth right now, the words just wouldn't come out.</p><p>"Is your father pushing these beliefs onto you?" Sal's words seem to stab Travis through the gut. The blue haired boy is onto him, he's sure. His voice is so calm.</p><p>"Just because my dad is a preacher doesnt mean he owns me! I'm my own person!" Blonde's voice cracks again, he knows what Sal's thinking. 'Are you sure? Really?' But he doesnt say anything more.</p><p>"Yeah, but..." Sal sighs, collecting his thoughts, and Travis holds his breath for a second. "You seem so unhappy, man."</p><p>Travis was staring at the stall door like a deer in headlights.</p><p>"Are you sure your dad isn't putting too much pressure on you? It must be hard being a son of such an intense man."</p><p>Blonde's heartbeat quickens and the desire for Sal to leave seems to dissapear. Maybe he cares.</p><p>"You have no idea what it's like." Travis' voice got real quiet.</p><p>"I'm sorry, man." He doesn't care, he pities him. But from Sal, pitty's good enough. He can't make him know that though.</p><p>"Don't be sorry for me, Sally Face. I don't need your pity." As he got calmer his voice got easier to control and he managed to sound as he though he should. Hostile.</p><p>"We don't have to be enemies, you know that, right?" Travis is worn out. By the conversation, the day, the sobbing. How is Sal like this? Why is he even talking to him still? "I think under all that anger is a good dude who's afraid to be himself."</p><p>He's caught off-guard yet again. His cheeks worm up slightly. Sal Fisher, the dude full of surprises.</p><p>"If you ever need someone to talk to, or if you need to get away from you dad, you can always hangout with me."</p><p>Holy shit. Holy shit. Travis never thought he'd hear this, ever. His heart almost stopped and he felt a small smile creep onto his face. Somehow this feeling makes him even more conflicted, the calm bubble he was in for a moment bursts. More tears pool in his eyes.</p><p>"Why- why are you being so nice to me?" he mutters, not letting the tears flow down. Not yet, not now.</p><p>"I don't think you're a bad person, Travis." Too nice for his own good. His voice is so soft.</p><p>"You know..." Travis sighs out, not even thinking about whan he's saying. "I don't really hate you... or your friends."</p><p>"I didn't think so." He can hear happiness in Sal's voice, as if he was slightly smiling. Travis is dieing to see Sal smile, even if it was the last thing he ever saw.</p><p>He's not thinking straight.</p><p>"I- I guess... Well, I'm sorry I've been such an asshole. You don't deserve that."</p><p>Definitely not thinking straight, this can't be right.</p><p>"That means a lot to me. It really does." Blue haired boy's voice is like a light in Travis' clouded mind. "Thank you. And what I said, about being here for you if you ever decide you want a friend, I meant that."</p><p>He feels warm, as if Sal hugged him through that latched door. It's unfamiliar, but so good. It doesn't take away the pit in his stomachor the headache, but he'll manage. He's managed worse.</p><p>"Don't push your luck, Sally Face." Travis says in a different tone than he'd usually use, untill fear took hold of him suddenly. "Now scram off so I can have my alone time! And uh, don't tell anyone abut this or your dead! I mean, just, don't tell anyone about this"</p><p>"I won't." And there's that. Done. It felt empty after Sal left.</p><p>He shouldn't think about it like this, not anymore. They will be friends. Maybe then it would be easier to stop those thoughts.</p><p>He needs to lie down.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>every salvis fic need THE NOTE SCENE<br/>ik its written often, but i wasnt really sure how to start this story without including it<br/>i wrote this one really late at night and even tho it was edited and proof read there might be a typo or two i missed, sorry</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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